


Black Star

by PAULTHEGREAT



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-08 14:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAULTHEGREAT/pseuds/PAULTHEGREAT
Summary: Earth was destroyed in a nuclear war. The survivors found haven by going through a wormhole. Jackson Bolton a former CIA SOG operative remembers the final days. He sees the clone wars and fears this new galaxy is going down the same grim path. So he jumps at the opportunity given to him by Jedi master Zey to advise and assist. He plans to win the clone wars though methods that could be labeled as cloak and dagger. In order to execute it, he assembles a force of terrans and clones code name Black Star.





	1. Chapter 1

He remembered earth in her last days. Nothing was going right nearly everyone was starving. The nukes had been a mercy kill. At least for those who'd been left on earth to die about ten percent of the population from select countries managed to evacuate on lifeboats. They left earth in search of a better home. Former CIA SAD SOG paramilitary officer Jackson Bolton referred to as Agent or Mr. Bolton wasn't sure if they had found a better home or if they’d found the same home with the same problems on a larger scale. 

He road in an air speeder driven by some Twi lek taxi driver. He hadn't cared to exchange small talk with the driver it wasn't necessary. It didn't matter that he was in a different galaxy he was still in the same line of work. This time as a contractor for Republic Intelligence it was the same thing involving infiltration and intelligence work however it lacked destabilization and assassination. 

The airspeeder arrived above a platform. The door swung open and Bolton stepped out dressed in black suit business casual. Tucked under his slick black jacket a pistol forty-five calibers the bullets made by terran engineers. 

Once on the platform, Bolton saw two Jedi approach him in their long all-encompassing robes. He made sure his poker face was on. No emotion was displayed his face was perfectly kept to not have his mouth and eyes angle down enough to show displeasure nor raised enough to show satisfaction. Perfectly unreadable. It didn't matter that a Jedi could read him regardless he wasn't going to make it easy. After all, he was a professional for god sake he needed to look like one.

The Jedi could be described as light-skinned but overall had a charming appeal to him. Bolton had carried out assassinations against such men. He didn't wish ill intent towards the Jedi after all they had helped his people settle into this new galaxy. And he was here to do them a favor since he was an independent contractor and did not necessarily owe loyalty to Republic intel. It was ironic he had once been a vocal critic of government privatization and now he was a private government contractor. 

“Mr. Bolton,” The Jedi said, “My names Zey Director of republic special forces I was the one who had you contacted. Please follow me.” 

They moved leaving the platform and into the barracks. They passed clone squadrons clad in bright white armor. Then they entered some kind of briefing room the lights were dim the room itself was small and circular built around a holo table. The door behind them shut. The only other person in the room was an ARC trooper who stood firmly and simply studied Bolton. Bolton didn't bother to acknowledge the presence of what was Zey's sentry. 

“I read your file. Both the ones in paper form from your homeworld and your work with Republic intelligence. It’s very impressive.” 

“Thank you, Master Jedi,” Bolton said with an unsettling lack of emotion behind his voice, “If I'm handed a mission I execute it with maximum efficiency or I don't return.” 

“A trait I can respect,” Zey said, “So I must ask what do you think about the war. I want your honest unfiltered opinion. This will not be relayed to Republic Intelligence so it won't affect future contracts.” 

Bolton was silent at first simply standing firmly arms folded behind his back. The sharp black sunglasses concealing his eyes. Zey really wanted his unfiltered opinion. 

“I think no one in the republic has a goddamn clue what they're doing,” Bolton said, “I haven't seen so many fucking military errors since world war one. And at least they had the excuse of inexperience with advanced technology. The GAR is simply inept at doing its job. You are gifted the most disciplined and skilled military force you could possibly be given and you manage to get what 500,000 killed now, in a year. Frankly, the Jedi shouldn’t have been gifted generalship. In fact, I think you should trade places with your doorman in the corner. And this whole war feels. I've gathered the intel to know the CIS should have won by now. Yet they sit back waiting for something as if they're a fucking cat toying with a mouse before the kill. So there you have it, master Jedi, my raw and unfiltered opinion.” 

The room was silent for a moment. Zey hadn't quite expected that reaction and while it was rude. Zey grinned he almost chuckled at the man's personality. He wondered if Maze who stood in the corner wanted to say something along those lines but was too loyal to do so. 

“Thank you, Agent Bolton,” Zey said, “Though I must ask you do you see a way to win the war and could uncover this off feeling of yours given the resources.” 

“Give me the budget I could topple the CIS and by extension discover the ulterior intent at the heart of this conflict. After all, I’m a terran our history is largely made of war and espionage,” Bolton said, “But I'm not cheap Director.” 

“Accommodations can be made Mr. Bolton,” Zey said, “From this moment on, your contract is with me on paper your my personal advisor. However, in all honesty, you will be my hand I will even outfit you with your own elite group of clones.” 

“Wait,” Bolton said, “While I admit clones are skilled I must request I be allowed to bring in other assets. They will be my will essentially, carrying out operations and screening clones before they're let into this unit.” 

Zey found this interesting that his hand wanted hands. It concerned him a bit for he didn't want things becoming to decentralized. However, three agents was still relatively small scale. 

“Do you have the men you want in mind?” 

“I know precisely who I want.” 

Concord down ten standard hours later 

Former Captain Wilson Taylor of the First Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta (1stSFOD) AKA Delta Force had been one of the few selected for the voyage off of the earth apart of the security forces. However, after they'd arrived through the wormhole and integrated into the republic that job was over. Meaning he was out of a job. So he became an intergalactic mercenary. It had a very nice ring to it made it sound more badass than it actually was. Currently, he was advising Mandalorian cops in proper counterterrorist tactics. 

“Alright review from yesterday who remembers what CQC means?” He questioned his classroom of cops. He then pointed towards one with his hand up. 

“Close Quarters Combat.” The student replied.

“Good, do you remember the components as well?” Captain Wilson pressed on. 

“Detailed planning, Surprise, Speed, and violence of action.” The officer said. 

“Very good,” Wilson said and then put his hand in a jar and threw candy at the officer who caught it. Positive reinforcement was effective, “Today we are going to practice CQC which will combine all the individual skills we have worked on thus far. Half of you will play terrorist the other half counter terrorist. Then switch. I want you to both learn how the enemy would think assuming they're competent and how to handle it. So we will regroup at the shoot house.” 

The shoot house was a structure that Captain Wilson had constructed himself to model an embassy an obvious target for a terrorist. It was stored in a hanger with air speeders lined up. Wilson stood in his own assault gear with a baseball cap over his face American flag proudly placed I'm the center of that. He has an M1911 situated in the holster on his right. 

The Mandalorian cops split into two teams. The first team moved into the mock embassy to assume defensive positions. The second team quickly strapped on mock grey assault gear one took up a shield. The rest training blaster that would immobilize the other team since both used training armor. 

“Alright, you have five minutes to plan,” Wilson said, “In real life, you may have days but I’m not going to stand here taking the time to simulate a siege which involves politicians trying to use diplomacy instead of just simply allowing you to do your fucking job. Five minutes do what you've got to do.”

Wilson watched as they planned the officer who answered the question his name was Talos took immediate charge. He quickly told his twelve men how things would go down. Wilson was very proud of himself to have trained Talos. He quickly watched as they separated into two teams. They hit the two entrances of the mock embassy. He watched on his tablet which was hooked up to the security cameras inside. In perfect form, they gathered in assault teams the first one strapped a charge to the back door. They set off the explosion echoed throughout the hanger. They then popped several flash grenades and charged in. 

The defense team thought it would be a good idea to try and take the assault team going through the front head on. Three of their members charged into the lobby right as team two used a battering ram to knock down the other entrance. Stun grenades flew into the target room and it was quickly seized. The three men up front had been dispatched fast by the assault team who lost two dudes. Not a bad first try but Wilson saw things both sides could improve on and noted that in his personal journal that was pen and paper.

“Captain,” Called out his intern a young cadet, “You've got a communication from a Mr. Bolton.” 

Captain Taylor stopped for a second he hadn't talked to Bolton in a very long time. That man had been placed in charge of the entire American life boat's security forces. He was very cold but an overall effective leader. 

“What does he want?” Questioned Taylor raising an eyebrow. 

“He wouldn't tell me said it was for your ears only.” 

“Huh, I'll see to it after I’m finished up here.” 

An hour later Taylor was back in his personnel office which had a desk and a bookshelf of alphabetized books about guerrilla warfare and special operation and also the Art of war. In Taylor's opinion, everyone should have the art of war in their bookshelf. He picked activated his holo-com to call Bolton back. The man popped up in a detailed blue projection something that still made Taylor uneasy. 

“Mr. Bolton I heard you called how can I help you today.” He said sounding a bit like a tech support guy. 

“Captain,” Bolton started, “I have been assigned a very important task concerning the clone wars. A Jedi general appointed me to a high position. I want you on my staff I require your brain and skill set.” 

“Bolton normally I would jump at the chance at an offer from you especially since it sounds like you want me to service some fools. Which sounds quite exhilarating but I gave the Mandalorian government my word to have five brigades including one training brigade ready to execute counter-terrorist missions. And I can not leave until I have finished my work.” 

Captain Taylor was a man of his word if he said he'd do something he'd do it. He never lied and never fulfilled his duties halfway. These were some of the principles he was raised on and that he lived by. A man without principles was a lost man. 

Bolton looked unmoved keeping that same facial expression. He always took himself so seriously. Taylor wondered if he kept that same expression no matter the situation. And if he smiled if it literally would kill him. 

“I knew that you would say. That which is why I called Agent Gates to full fill your position being FBI HRT he can do your job better in training cops. I also had a contact in GIGN who talked to the Mandalorian government and they sold him and Gates your contract.” 

At this moment Captain Taylor wasn't sure whether he was impressed, insulted, or complimented that Bolton did this much work to recruit him. It had worked well. Seeing as he was no out of a job. Well played Bolton well played. 

“Bolton you're too good at your job. It's alarming at how good you are at it.” Taylor said.

Bolton cut the communication abruptly. Not so much as a good by. He'd only left Captain Wilson Taylor one choice. The former Delta force operator sighed and began packing up his desk. 

Coruscant underground five hours later 

Viktor Starikov former Captain in the Russian FSB Spetsnaz Alpha group was no longer an FSB operator or even working for the Russians. Or even on earth. Now he a bounty hunter and not a well respected one.

He stood outside the house of one of his targets it was a black sun job. He was tasked to send a message to a rival gang. In his hands, a heavy blaster pistol pointed downwards. 

He knew five men were inside. So he would breach and move carefully having nobody to cover his back. 

Starikov was quick he strapped a detonator to the door. He moved to the side as it went off blowing it clean off of its hinges. He charged in his eyes lined up with the sights of the blaster pistol both hands gripped around it. Two men were in a frenzy going for their blaster pistols. 

Starikov knew he was better. Not just because of the genetic enhancements every nation gave to Special Ops soldiers during the war. But even before that, he was the top man in Alpha. Before that he'd already achieved fifty confirmed kills. He stopped counting after the enhancements. There was no point. 

Starikov’s trigger finger was fast three bolts went off one blowing the head of a rodian who's hand on his holster away. The other three shots struck a human who was reaching under a coach for his blaster. He was thrown to the ground smoke rising from his wounds.

Starikov placed his back against a wall near the entrance into a hallway. He heard men shouting and the electric hum of a blaster charging up. He raised held the blaster in one hand and went still. Two men sprinted out of the hall both holding carbines. 

Starikov moved the blaster barrel went point blank to the head if a Weequay. He fashioned a smile and pulled the trigger the blue bolt consumed the aliens head. It was then completely vaporized. The other man tried to turn but was shot twice in the side instead. 

Starikov raised the blaster back in proper breaching form. He looked down the hallway. The smell of charred flesh filled the room with its twisted aroma. 

Killing exhilarated Starikov enjoyed the thrill of the adrenaline flowed through his veins. His Senses were heightened. He could hear the sound of a man breathing heavily he was beginning to panic. 

He turned to a door on the right and pressed a button on the door it swooshed open. The former Alpha group Captain moved with the blaster pistol looking around a room. On the other side of the bed was a man acting like a boy. 

“Please, I can pay you whatever you want this isn't necessary.” He said his arms stretched out pleading. 

“Unfortunately, it is. We all make choices you, for instance, chose to steal from the black sun. Bad choice. This is what happens.” 

Viktor pulled the trigger the blaster bolt reflected in his eyes. The man hit the ground smoke rising from under his body. 

Hours later Viktor was at a bar his contract full filled. He earned a total of fifty dollars since he owed money to the black sun so 90% of his earnings were taken until his debt was paid. 

“Another!” He shouted as he slammed the cup on the table. 

So another came down. Viktor chugged that one as well. Five cups of the alien ale later Viktor was found himself laughing historically at every single joke said. And then singing the Russian national anthem. 

Things became fuzzy and ended up crashed on the cold hard floor of his apartment among a huge mess of scattered blasters, data pads, and cans. And there Viktor stayed.

He awoke and rubbed his forehead. He didn't even need to check his wallet to know there was no money. It had all been spent every last credit. 

Viktor rubbed his head and yawned. It wasn't the wildest night. There was the time he woke up with a senator in his bed he'd never say which. Then some Twi Lek girl in another room. Somehow neither one had known the other was also there. Viktor was so hammered he'd forgotten how he pulled that off. Though he was proud of himself for somehow pulling it off while drunk it didn't change the fact of awkward and tense mourning. So this mourning wasn't so bad. 

Three loud knocks banged against his door. Viktor snapped immediately reaching for his blaster which was no longer in its holster. Damn it was one of those days. 

“Viktor Starikov I have been standing here for three hours. I know you're in there. I have my ways. Open the door now!” It was a very demanding voice.

However, Starikov recognized it as he approached the door. He pressed the button the door swing open.

“Mr. Bolton, it's quite early for you to be knocking on peoples doors,” Starikov said with the brightest smile he could muster.

The stench of alcohol exhumed from Viktor's mouth. Bolton in his sharp suit and sunglasses seemed to not notice. He pulled his leave up looking at his watch.

“It is twelve O'clock Captain Starikov. Therefore it is a bit late to be knocking on peoples doors, ” Said Bolton, “Besides the point, we've wasted enough time. Grab your things we've got work to do.” 

Bolton met Starikov on the colony of Terra prime all the lifeboats agreed to start a new life with no borders to divide humanity. However, the trade federation wanted Terra primes resources and used pirates and mercenaries to try and drive the terrans away before sending a droid army. Starikov and Bolton had worked hand in hand to fight in what was called the Federation wars. Using dirty tactics. They had mutual respect for the other’s willingness to commit acts of moral ambiguity in order to win. Ends justify the means kind of thing. 

“Wow, hold your horses cowboy,” Viktor said referring to all Americans as cowboy, “I have a different life now. You can't just say Viktor let's kill some people and then expect me to blindly follow you.” 

“Captain Starikov do as I say till the end of the clone wars. I'll pay your debt off to black sun off in its entirety.” 

Starikov shifted immediately. He formed up as straight as an exclamation point. Then firmly brought his hand up to his head in a salute.

“Captain Viktor Starikov here and ready to blindly follow orders.” 

Wilson Taylor arrived at the clone barracks out front at roughly one pm. He had a large duffle bag that carried his personal weaponry. He knew Bolton would provide everything else. He stood their still in his tactical assault gear the baseball cap with the American flag cast a shadow over his blue eyes and well-kept face. 

On his leg, he had his pistol holstered. He was looking around for Bolton. Instead, he saw an ARC trooper with red stripes and a red pauldron approach him. He'd seen them on the news before. 

“Captain Taylor?” He said.

“You've got the right guy.” Captain Wilson Taylor replied. 

“Follow me.” 

They moved through the clone barracks into what Wilson Taylor assumed was a briefing room. It currently had the lights flipped on making it bright. And there he saw Viktor Starikov hands behind his head as and feet up on the holo table in a position Wilson knew was much too relaxed. Wilson resented the man as he sat there with his messy in groomed blond hair and poorly civilian clothing that looked unwashed. He even had the musty odor of alcohol rising from him. This man was not a soldier. He lacked discipline and decency. 

“Captain Starikov,” Wilson said, “I wasn't aware Bolton brought you into this as well.” 

“Then you'd be a fool. It's obvious Bolton requires skilled personnel. And I was the top operator on Alpha. The best special ops unit.” 

Wilson wanted to start something. His being felt the need to say something along the lines of tell that to the five I killed in Ukraine. 

“Point made.” He replied.

It wasn't worth a fight. If there was something Wilson Taylor knew it was to pick your battles wisely. He knew Bolton was going to force them to work together. Despite his displeasure of working with this mess called an operator he knew if expressed that there would be unnecessary tension between them during an op. And it was hard for both of them to work together after the war. Made easier by the Federation war but still uneasy for Wilson. He remembered killing the five Alpha group operators. He hadn't found it entirely fair he'd already been administered the enhancements. It was anti-fatigue serum. Essentially the user was immune to most forms of fatigue. The Alpha Operators weren't. It was a great advantage since they hadn't known the US was equipping SOCOM units with the advanced treatment. But he felt bad for killing them in the way he had. At the moment he hadn't but seeing how things turned out he now dud. Up in space, it compensated for primal technology. But still, he couldn't help but wonder if Starikov was ok with working with his former longtime enemy. Both sides could be blamed for the Armageddon that ensued but it wasn't surprising for survivors to be a little bias to their own.

The door to the briefing room opened yet again and Agent Jackson Bolton entered. Still in his black business suit still with eyes concealed behind sunglasses. And still with his expressionless look. Next to him a Jedi master.

Starikov took his feet off the table and turned to get a better look at the Jedi. He was still seated and leaned back against the chair. Taylor stood straight as a spear and saluted.

“Gentlemen, I find introductions useless we're going to get right to it, ” Bolton said, “Next to me is Jedi Master Arligan Zey. Director of republic special operations. And like most others, he is inexperienced in the job he has been assigned. He will brief you on the details of the war. We are here to help.” 

“Right, ” Zey said caught a bit off guard, “It should come as no surprise senior analyst in Republic intelligence believe we will lose the war. This will leave a fractured unstable galaxy. We are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. The CIS believes it also has superior leaders. They don't know about this group. Essentially I'll present you with a goal or problem and you will help find a solution and execute that solution. Problem one we don't have the numbers. How we solve that.” 

“Well, ” Taylor said, “There was once a man named Alexander the great. He was severely outnumbered by a powerful military force under a competent military commander on two instances. You know how he won?” 

“How?” Questioned Zey.

“Created a gap and went straight for the leader. This caused the whole enemy army to go into a rout. In the chaos of the retreat, Alexander achieved victory, ” Taylor continued, “Droids are nothing without there leadership. Conducting a galactic war is a rather difficult task for a single leader no matter how competent he can't be everywhere at once. I propose we draw up a list of CIS leaders and we kill them one by one.” 

“I like the way you think, ” Starikov jumped in, “But it's only part of the problem. The CIS has cash. Cash they can use to higher new generals. We need to target their cash by sabotaging their industry. We target politicians to throw worlds into chaos. We used scorched earth tactics on their civilians to hurt their supply lines. We can then squeeze the CIS until they snap.” 

“Captain Starikov, ” Zey said, “What happens to the livelihoods of those farmers and citizens after we destabilize their political systems and destroy their industry.” 

“Master Jedi it is not of our concern, ” Viktor Starikov said, “If they didn't want these things to happen then they shouldn't have succeeded.” 

“Starikov, ” Wilson jumped in unable to contain himself, “If we do these things we create more problems down the world. They will learn to resent the republic and launch attacks long after the clone wars ends even if there is no droid army.” 

“Taylor, ” Viktor said, “These separatists need to be punished. They have no sense of Republic law. That is why they succeeded they lack fear of the government. It is only showing that the republic will use a firm stick to beat descent back into submission will you guarantee compliance.” 

Wilson remembered Afghanistan and Iraq and what a mess it had been. Overthrowing a regime and using military force to implement a different one didn't work on a planetary level. He was not here to make the same mistakes twice.

“No, ” Zey jumped in, “I will not condone intentional harm towards civilians. Find another way to deny supplies to the separatists. I will approve such actions to their military leaders because they have taken up arms against the republic.” 

“They did so because their civilians supported it. They are just as much to blame.” 

“No Captain that is incorrect, ” Mr. Bolton said nodding his head, “The corruption and weakness of the republic are what lead us here. I am for efficient military policy. Your policy breads endless wars and descent. Therefore it's inefficient. Certain political individuals like Count Dooku should be assassinated. But the complete destabilization of a world and then brutalizing that world is an endeavor that creates more enemies. I as well will not condone it.” 

Starikov leaned back. They were all fools if the republic was going to survive it needed to know when to be ruthless. He wasn't seeking an authoritative regime but showing mercy to traitors was how one created more traitors. He knew fear was a necessary tool. If the Americans had used more fear in their policy the war on terror wouldn't have gone on forever. 

“Fine, ” Starikov said, “The longer this last the longer I'm employed. And it seems it shall indeed be a stable job.” 

Wilson Taylor wanted fo sock Starikov right in his pretty face. He wanted to do it until the man was turned purple with bruises. But not enough to kill him. Just enough to scar him for life. He was not a soldier, not a proper one. A good soldier protected an upheld the principles of his nation above his own. Starikov only had self-interest. 

But Wilson, in reality, did absolutely nothing. It simply wasn't worth it. Especially when there was still the overall war to plan. 

“Alright, any other tasks we should discuss?” Wilson questioned shifting the conversation. 

“Yes, ” Bolton started, “While you two are skilled individuals you lack the ability to properly enact all policy. We have clones highly disciplined warriors. I want you to form an advanced tactical unit from them.” 

“I can acquire files and set up interviews upon request.” Said Zey.

Wilson heard advanced tactical unit and his mind jumped. He knew they would need a certain breed of men. And there was only one way to get that.

“We need to draw up a selection process, ” Wilson said, “One that'll separate the boys from the men.”

“Finally something we agree on, ” Starikov said, “I suggest we merge Alpha, Delta, DEVGRU, and SAS standards to form the ultimate test.” 

“No, ” Said Wilson catching everyone off guard, “It's not a proper test. I've seen Commandos and ARCs on the news. Commandos would kill DEVGRU selection but not Delta selection. ARCs are just the opposite. See our selections test skills developed in the separate branches. So DEVGRU gets the best SEALs and Delta gets the best light infantry. The whole point of selection is to get mentally strong individuals. If we're going to get the best clones we need to see how they work. Then we can create a selection process to properly get good candidates for the tac units. Also to see what skills we will have to teach in the training process.” 

Bolton had selected Wilson because of the man's experience in passing and failing selection. He had passed air assault school passed Special Forces Qualification becoming a beret. Then graduated ranger school then tried out for the SEALs. He failed. Tried becoming a combat controller and failed. Then went back to the berets. Did that for a while got invites to Delta tryouts and passed. He'd also been an instructor on numerous occasions passing and failing a wide variety of people. He knew just how to find the guy he wanted and make him better. Whereas Viktor had been in GRU and Alpha not undergoing the exact same journey.

“And how, Captain, how would you execute this task?” Said Bolton. 

Captain Taylor crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He formed an answer the second he proposed the idea.

“It's simple really, ” Wilson said, “Send me in to combat with the clones.” 

Bolton raised an eyebrow if Starikov had been drinking he would have spit it right out. Zey’s became wide. 

“It's a bit risky Captain you could be killed.” Said Zey.

“Well wasn't the intention to have us go in and perform tasks that could get us killed anyways,” Wilson replied.

“Yes, but on missions of importance,” Bolton said.

“And ensuring our tactical teams maximum efficiency to perform delicate and important tasks is not of any importance?” Said Wilson batting an eye. 

“Bolton, I'll watch the cowboys back. Send us both in and you'll increase his odds of survival.” Viktor replied leaning forward.

“And if you're both killed?” Zey questioned. 

“Then, I'll simply have to replace them with other operators, ” Bolton replied, “Being the best for the job doesn't mean your the only one who can perform the task. However, if you're going you’re not going without medical that would be stupid.” 

“You're going to need a medic that can keep up.” Said Viktor, “And one who can work fast and efficiently while bullets are flying.” 

“I suggest either a SARC or pararescuemen. There's four in existence. Two are retired.” Suggested Wilson.

“Of course you'd suggest other Americans,” Viktor said.

“You have better guys in mind.” 

Viktor was silent and that was the only answer needed. Bolton nodded. 

“I'll find these men. And you'll be deployed in the tomorrow.” Bolton said. 

“I'll arrange a team of clones I take it you want special operations?” Zey questioned.

“Hook us up with a continent of ARCs and Commandos.” Said Captain Taylor, “Preferably ones about to be deployed.” 

“I'll find my best,” Zey said after he nodded.


	2. The Eagle and The Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Wilson Taylor former US Army Delta Force finds himself about to embark on a mission with Captain Viktor Starikov Russian FSB Spetsnaz Alpha group. It sounds simple enough meet some clones.

One armored durasteel plate tucked firmly into a holder over his chest with another in a different holder on his back. The back plate was covered up by a military backpack. His head secured within a carbon fiber helmet. A flashlight strapped to the side of it. A best wrapped over the chest plate with pockets to hold equipment. His feet in tight boots with laces properly tied and tucked away. Then a balaclava over his face that was currently pulled down. An M1911 firmly positioned on his right leg in a holster and a knife on his other leg in a sheath. Grenades dangled from his belt and an HK416 carbine hung from his chest hooked up to a shoulder strap. 

Former Delta Force Captain Wilson Taylor was prepared for war. He made his way towards the hanger making sure his earpiece was working and stayed with the commentator on his gauntlet over his right arm. 

“Test, test, One, two, three. This is Captain Wilson Taylor making sure the earpiece and mic are functioning correctly over.”

Viktor Starikov simply threw on a grey jacket some good shoes with the earpiece tucked in. He had a small backpack that held basic things like food. He kept his balaclava in his hand. And had a Westar m5 blaster carbine slung over his shoulder. 

“What, I can't quite hear you.” Said Viktor. His facial expression was the opposite of his tone being a mischievous grin.

“I said test-” 

“Can it cowboy I can hear loud and clear, ” Viktor said laughing in between breaths, “I was just fucking with you.” 

Wilson shook his head in disappointment as he listened to the Russian operative laugh. 

Both men met in the hanger of the clone barracks coming from two separate ends. Wilson scanned Viktor's outfit. He was surprised by the man's choices especially the fact he had no protective gear.

“Viktor, I see you've perfected the merc look,” Wilson commented.

Most private military contractors wore similar styles of gear to Viktor. This was due to tight budgets or nature of their work.

“I thought delta operator's preferred civilian wear,” Viktor said. 

“When the objective is to blend in with a civilian populist, ” Wilson said, “We ware whatever it takes to complete the operations. In this case, I find assault gear is preferable.” 

“To each his own.” Said Viktor shrugging his shoulders. 

It as at a republic shuttle Mr. Jackson Bolton stood still in his suit and black sunglasses and unremarkable facial expression. To his right one, SARC named Joel Smith who stood in standard military gear. He carried his medical supplies in his backpack. But more notably was his choice in rifle he was a medic designated to provide emergency support to battlefield injuries. An M4 was all he needed. But instead, he’d picked an HK417. Unlike Wilson's 416 the 417 was semi-automatic and fired 7.62 by 51-millimeter rounds. Not to mention only armor piercing addition of any weapon were used these days the kickback was strong even with genetic enhancements. Meaning this man was skilled at controlling it and maintaining his own breathing to accurately place a bullet right where it needed to go. This man was a sharpshooter a sniper as well as a medic. And the way he cradled the rifle suggested that was a fact he was proud of. To Bolton's right stood pararescuemen Michael Gabriels he wore military standard for his uniform the only difference was the addition of plastoid armor on his chest and back. It was painted the same green tan of US military gear. He held the same Scar h he’d been issued on earth. He hadn't changed a thing about it. The gun was good enough for the job perhaps even to fancy. 

“Taylor, Starikov,” Bolton said, “Meet Joel Smith and Michael Gabriels they're your medics. Any questions regarding their qualifications they're professionals they'll answer accordingly.” 

“It's nothing to do with their qualifications,” Starikov said interrupting Bolton, “But the one to right Smith I'm assuming. He's packing quite the piece. Seems a bit much for a medic.”

“Mr. Starikov if I am to provide you medical support I have to accompany you on the operation. Which means I must be just as effective at combat. And I excel at whatever it is I do. So worry not Captain I'll stitch you up and make sure the enemy can't be.” Proclaimed Joel proudly. 

“If that's all save any other questions for later,” Said Bolton, “You are scheduled to meet up with a task force assembled to launch raids on separatist defensive positions on Felucia ahead of the invasion. Upon your arrival, the Commandos and ARCs are being informed of your presence and not to disclose that information to others. Still, I must insist you keep your identity secret and only use code names.” 

“What are our code names?” Questioned Gabriels. 

“Figure it out,” Said Bolton, “Coordinates are already set in the shuttle. I look forward to your mission report.” 

Bolton stood off to the side as the four men walked towards the shuttle. The cargo bay door opened up a staircase leading towards the back. Steam rising from the exhaust ports. 

Starikov learned how to pilot starships as soon as he'd discovered it was a thing. It was an absolutely critical skill in this galaxy. He jumped in the cockpit and got a look at the controls. 

Everyone else gathered in the passenger bay behind the cockpit. Starikov left the door open so he could listen. 

 

“We all need code names. I say let's keep it simple I'm Delta, Starikov you're Alpha, Joel you’re SARC, and Gabriel you're Para.” Suggested Wilson.

“So, you admit I'm the Alpha male of this group then.” Said Starikov. 

“Alright, Starikov your code names Spets now.” Said Wilson.

It was obvious to everyone Spets was just short for Spetsnaz. It was also obvious it was intentionally lame. Who the hell wanted to be called Spets sounded close to spits. 

“Fuck you, Taylor, ” Said Starikov. 

Wilson Taylor grinned. It gave him pleasure he was able to deal Starikov even the slightest amount of injury. 

***** 

Republic Commando Sergeant 1138 referred to as ‘Boss’ by his subordinates had lead his four-man republic commando team one twenty missions since the start of the clone wars. And they were twenty successful mission never once having lost a man and always completing the mission objective no matter the task.

The campaigns on Felucia were about to begin. Three corps of infantry were preparing for the land assault. Before that could go down the Jedi General leading the strike had requested Special Forces to go in behind enemy lines and neutralize several airfields and artillery positions. This would make the ground assault easier. It was a suicide mission to throw guys behind enemy lines with no air support or any support of any kind. More so commando raids went best when the element of surprise was on their side. Some ARF troopers had botched that up getting themselves killed during a reconnaissance operation. The enemy was expecting. To further complicate things they were informed private contractors were coming along to survey them. 

“Don't botch this one Deltas the Jedi are actually watching for once,” Boss told his squad while they were still in the bustling hanger of a venator, “After all we wouldn't want them to think less of us.” 

“Boss, are they serious about these contractors,” Scorch in his armor with the loud purple and yellow stripes streaming a crossed it started, “Honestly missions tough enough without a bunch of tourists tagging along.” 

“It was never mandated they come back,” Sev their sniper said, “If they get themselves killed it's not our fault.” 

Sev’s armor had red splattered aggressively on certain areas of his armor appearing to look like blood spots. 

“Their contractors,” Fixer jumped in, “Like the training sergeants on Kamino. They, at last, know what they're getting into. I doubt the Jedi would send inexperienced personnel on ban op like this.” 

Fixer was their tech sergeant so to speak. Tech corporal was a better definition if you wanted to be exact about the rank. And Fixer was the type of soldier to be precise about that kind of thing. He had his armor painted with organized green stripes and green was the color for a corporal in the Republic military. 

“Fixer is correct,” Said Boss, “Their sending mercenaries who were former soldiers in Terran Spec Ops.” 

“That primitive bunch,” Scorch said practically laughing, “What Mandalorians up their rates.” 

A republic shuttle entered the hanger catching everyone's attention. They watched as the wings folded up in a v and the landing gear shot out. Smoke shot from the ports as the engine began to calm down. Then the cargo bay door lowered more smoke billowing out. Four figures emerged from it. Boss took immediate note. 

The one who led the group held a black rifle Boss had to admit looked primitive. He was clad in all the things you would expect from a soldier and had a black mask pulled down over his face. The man behind him carried a blaster carbine but that was the only thing military about him. He stuck out from the rest of group since the other two followed the motto set by the man in front. But this man with the blaster wore a grey jacket and not a combat jacket at that and a cap and not even military fatigue. He leaned back yawning as the group turned to face Delta squad. The lead one took out his datapad stared down at it like a delivery boy before staring back at Boss. 

“Delta squad?” Said He. 

“Present.” Said Boss. 

“Oddly enough you are to refer to me as Delta,” Said the man, “We're the contractors that'll be joining you today. Or at least well two of my other associates will be running with a group of ARC troopers.” 

Wilson Taylor couldn't help but feel a bit like a DMV drive test surveyor. They he had said it and how he held the datapad like a clipboard. He was glad to know the microphone in his balaclava was functioning concerned his voice would become muffled and hard to make out. 

He subtly nodded to Starikov who simply turned right and strolled off like they were at some kind of city park. Joel went with him. Wilson paid them no mind but was honestly glad he wasn't going to have to deal with Starikov today. 

“You boys got names?” Asked Taylor.

“RC 113-” 

“No,” Taylor said sharply, “I’m not going to shout One One three followed by whatever in the middle of a battlefield. You're a soldier and soldiers got a name its what separates us from droids.” 

Boss hadn't quite expected that even their handler referred to them by numbers. But then again this was a man who'd seen enough combat to form a distaste for dehumanizing the guys fighting. 

“The squad calls me Boss,” He said, “The kaminoans didn't give us real names. And with all due respect do you have any other moniker besides Delta? I often refer to one of my men as Delta.” 

“Right,” Said Taylor, “Call me Ace then.” 

“Alright, Ace,” Said Boss, “The man in the reds our sniper hius names Sev. The man in the purples named Scorch our explosives expert. Our tech guys in the green we call him Fixer.” 

Taylor was quick to remember that associating colors with names. While he wasn't to big a fan of the idea of colorful military armor it was effective identification. 

“Duly noted Boss,” Said Taylor, “My comrades named Para. He's acting as our medic-.” 

“What do you mean acting is normally not a medic?” Said Scorch who got a look from Boss, “I’m genuinely interested.” 

“I’m what's referred to as pararescuemen,” Said Gabriels, “When something goes wrong like commandos effing up a job or a helicopter getting shot down in hostile territory we go in to extract and provide medical care to the wounded. Often we run in with say a spec ops task force to provide on-sight medical care”

Taylor shot him a look raising an eyebrow forming a crease in the balaclava. Technically speaking that wasn't classified information but, they were supposed to keep information regarding themselves on the down low. 

“If one of us is injured would you-” Began Scorch. 

“Without hesitation, our motto is so that others may live. However, if I'm forced to prioritize then it's Ta- I mean Del- I mean Ace damn it.” 

Now, Taylor, had both eyes locked on Gabriels. The man clearly had been on a lot of clandestine type operations that required to give the ability to deny involvement seeing a slip of the tongue almost happened. However, his record, however, was impeccable he'd saved more lives then Taylor had probably taken. And that got him enough respect that Taylor wouldn't bring this up later. 

Starikov’s destination was marked for the other side of the hanger. He walked through and watched as clones were prepping their equipment action. Technicians were hooking up fuel lines to LAAT gunships or ATTEs. Others were packing rockets into the launchers. Some were running system checks with one guy standing out front another in the cockpit giving a thumbs up to show the ship was functional. Commandos and ARCs were going over plans with their squadrons like football teams before the start of a game. He watched as one squad of republic commandos clad in black armor gathered as their leader briefed them. 

“Alright, Omega we've had a good run let's keep it up. We haven't lost a single man yet let's not start.” 

That bit reminded him of his old Alpha team. They used to be glad in dark gear and go on high risk clandestine or commando-style missions during numerous wars. He remembered his six men. Gregori, Sokolov, Vasiliev, Mikhailov, Petrov, and Ivanov young Ivanov. They were his boys and he took good care of them. Always got them back home to their wives and families. And they always got the mission done. Starikov would move heaven and hell for them. He smiled at their memory. Then he stopped smiling as he thought about more and stared at the ground. 

“Starikov,” Said Joel, “Something wrong?” 

Starikov realized his emotions were beginning to show. He quickly turned frown back into a smile and laughed a bit.

“Nothing wrong at all but your concern is appreciated, comrade,” Said Starikov, “Run ahead of me I've got to take a leak.” 

“Wait, seriously?” Said Joel raising an eyebrow. 

“Yea, seriously I could always go later, of course, I can tolerate the smell of urine.” 

“Jesus, I didn't need nor want detail just go.”

Starikov slipped away down a corridor. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. He leaned against the white walls as he removed his back. He pulled the zipper back and reached inside pulling out a glass bottle of vodka. It was 80 proof for most downing a whole bottle was a death sentence before a mission. Starikov could recover in an hour with his genetic enhancements. So rather than continue you the thoughts about his old squad he popped open the cap and guzzled down the bottle. 

*****

Advanced Recon Commandos or ARC troopers as they were commonly referred to were the pinnacle of the GAR for a grunt. That's the answer Alpha 17 would give you. He was an Alpha-class Arc trooper. The best of the best his physical abilities were beyond that of any other trooper in the Republic military. His reflex could keep up with a Jedi's. Sure republic commandos were good at infiltration and direct action type missions but Alpha class arc troopers excelled at everything. And could work independently they didn't necessarily need a squad backing them all the time.

However, the Alpha bloodline was growing thin so Alpha 17 had brought in more recruits to be second generation arcs. They were meant to be the bridge between conventional and unconventional Republic forces. Most he had deployed around the galaxy as Marshall commanders. But he kept a select few apart of his own team. 

“Fordo, ” Alpha 17 said to Alpha 77 who was working with him on today's op, “These Terran contractors sure do know how to take their time. I thought they were told to meet us here in hangar bay 13.” 

Fordo didn't talk much. He simply sat there rubbing the barrel of his blaster with a towel polishing it getting it to shine. The two ARCs hadn't worked together before but had indeed heard stories about one another. 

Fordo said nothing simply extended one of his fingers towards Alpha's east. Alpha turned to see one man approaching. He carried a very big black rustic looking rifle.

“That a kriffing slug slinger,” Alpha said as if he'd never seen one before.

“This team 7?” Questioned the Terran.

“It is.” Said Alpha his arms crossed, “Aren't there supposed to be two of you?” 

As if he'd said some magical word the other one appeared sprinting up from behind. He had a blaster. Finally something logical. Alpha thought go himself. 

“Viktor Starikov, ” The Terran said extending his hand out in front of him.

Joel took in a few gulps air through his nose. He could smell the thick and heavy aroma of alcohol exude from Starikov's mouth. He was also annoyed Starikov had used his actual name opposed to his code name. 

“Refer to me as Alpha my compatriot here is called Fordo. He doesn't seem to talk at all.” 

“Two guys your whole team or are there more,” Starikov said immediately. 

“Right to the point then, ” Alpha said, “Alright boys introduce yourselves.” 

Quickly four other men appeared from around the gunship. They all had the standard ARC look with blue, yellow, or red stripes and colored pauldrons. Though they were built smaller than Alpha and Fordo. Starikov knew immediately those clones must be genetically modified. 

“Names Ranger, ” Said one who was packing a rotary cannon on his back, “Teams heavy gunner.” 

“They call me Six.” Said one who carried a modified DC17. The barrel was replaced with one from a sniper and the grip was replaced with a square magazine that held the charge packs. It also had a modified stock and shoulder strap, “There's not that much to me. Give me orders I'll figure out the rest later.” 

“Names Shock. Don't ask why it just is.” Said one packed simply a DC17S carbine.

“CT-7567, I haven't earned my name yet. I intend to do so today seeing as I'm being assigned to a command position over a separate legion.”Said one who packed two DC15 pistols and a carbine. 

Starikov found their choice of attire a little off-putting even a bit humorous. Their colors reminded him more of power rangers then elite spec ops operators. And the skirts were kind if spartan esk and while it didn't hamper anything it certainly was adding to anything but fashion. These were fancy boys.

“Names Sarc, ” Joel said not to be left out, “If any needs stitching up I'm your guy. Though if you piss me off you'll find that I may have gotten hearing damage from a shell and I simply can not hear your cries for help.” 

“Ya know we might actually get along pretty well.” Said Alpha, “Operations in forty cycles. Do as you please.” 

“I'm pretty sure me and Starikov are perfectly right here. Right?” 

The way Joel had said it had a hint of anger. Starikov could see it in the man's eyes. What there was to be angry about he wasn't sure. After all, Starikov would be perfectly fine by the time the LAAT took off.

“Sure,” Starikov replied. 

*****   
Back on Coruscant grey clouds swarmed over the sky of the GAR's special operations barracks. Jackson Bolton moved into his new office space which was complete with one computer and a desk. All he had requested. It was simple Bolton preferred to keep things that way. 

Positioned right behind the chair of the desk however that on a good day would let just enough sunlight in to make it easier for Bolton to go over files. The veteran covert ops man carrying a box of personal items set it down by his desk.

He reached down first grabbing an MP5K submachine gun. It was small but deadly. He withdrew it and knelt under his desk. He had a slot installed under it to conceal the weapon. He then rose opening the cabinets of the desk. He placed his datapad on the left and on the right would go a loaded Glock. After that was down he took out one last item his only personal item.

It was a photograph propped in a black frame. He placed it so the image faced him directly. The eyes of the people in the image on him. It was two soldiers in military fatigues with faces as bright as a star together with a small cabin wood cabin in the background. 

Bolton then got right to work opening up the computer. He had plenty of files to go through. 

Before he could do that the door to his office opened. Zey stood in Jedi robes to meet Bolton's rather unamused face.

“Mr. Bolton your men are in position, ” Zey said, “It should also be noted I was able to move all your files over from republic intelligence.” 

“Is there something specific you require at the moment Master Jedi?” Asked Bolton. 

“No, I was about to ask is there anything else you require?” 

Bolton folded his hands as he stared up. He sighed as he thought. 

“I need a room for ten men. In my opinion, the tactical group would be much more efficient if they lived together.” 

“Easily full filled.” Said Zey.

“Also I'm bringing in an analysis. I'm very good at operations. But there's certain things a skilled Analysis will pick up on I may miss.” 

“Added with your four contractors plus you the council is going to ask questions when they see certain funds in special operations being allocated to a vague source.” Said Zey, “Not that it can't be done but I would like to keep this unit as ambiguous as possible.” 

“Tell them it's for a classified special forces division. Codenamed Black Stars and you don't need to give them more information than that. Just enough truth to satisfy their minds.” 

Zey nodded. He didn't like lying but then again he wasn't lying just not going into the details. The things that needed to get done to win a war in this era were becoming taking on a nature that didn't seem to exactly agree with the Jedi way. Perhaps the Jedi themselves needed to change. 

“Alright, I'm planning a meeting with select figures under my command. That way there can be cross-communication between you and the rest of GAR special ops.” 

“Understood.” Said Bolton. 

The door shut and Bolton was left to get back to work. He did immediately bring up files on past republic special operations to study meticulously.


	3. LAAT Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor and Starikov embark on raids with the clones and so far the mission's going as planned. Surely nothing will go wrong.

The LAAT gunship was designed to transport troops into an active war zone in a quick and efficient manner. At the same time, it could provide fire support from above raining down death upon an enemy. It's looks reflected this to Wilson Taylor it looked like MH3 Black Hawk transport helicopter and Apache Attack helicopter got together and had a child. On top of that, it also had horns like a bull with twin rocket launchers that stretched out aggressively above the cockpit like the horns on a bull. The only thing Taylor hated about the craft and he really hated it was the fact it was painted white a very bright white. The stuck out worse than the big red dot on the Japanese flag. Sure it wasn't exactly a stealth craft anyway but the color added to Taylor's concern about being blown out of sky before they could touch the ground. He wasn't a pilot but he knew the boys in 106th SOAR would've raised a serious objection if the Army wanted to repaint their helicopters bright white. 

He stood inside one holding onto a line like a world war two paratrooper right behind Republic Commando Boss. They had since synced communicators to better communicate tactics.

“Ace, when you were a Terran Soldier and mot a contractor did they often send you on missions like this one?” Asked Boss.

“As much as I'd like to I'm not at liberty to disclose any details of past operations.” Said Wilson.

While it was certainly understandable Boss wasn't entirely comfortable with going into a war zone with someone he knew absolutely nothing about. He needed to ask a question that wouldn't have an answer that would be considered classified. 

“Gabriel's told us he was in a unit called pararescue are you at liberty to talk about your unit?” Asked Boss.

“No, ” Said Wilson, “Actually one thing that defines my old unit was the absolute lack of information we were allowed to disclose. In fact, there was a time the government wouldn't even acknowledge we existed to the public.” 

That gave Boss somewhat a clue at what this man did. Sergeant Vau once described missions of plausible deniability. Usually involved assassination, special reconnaissance, or other actions a nation-state couldn't acknowledge for one of many reasons. Usually, it had to do with counter-terrorism. Meaning this man would have to be exceptionally skilled at covert infiltration and direct action. Those were skills that did, in fact, apply to what they were currently doing. As for sabotage Boss knew Scorch had that covered. 

“Gees is there anything about that's not classified. Like your friend Para seems to be an open book.” Said Fixer who stood right next to Boss.

“Well ya see where I come from a Spec Ops unit is either tier one or tier two. Tier one boys are black ops the nature of what we do is in the shadows so to speak. Tier two guys may need secrecy to get what they need to get done but they usually aren't assigned operations that are branded as covert. We can acknowledge their actions, Which is why they're called white ops.” 

“Interesting way to do it.” Said Boss, “We just do whatever the tell us to do. They haven't shown distinction between operations.” 

“Yea, well we aren't exactly doing something that may need be denied later. I don't think any one's gonna cry over a few blown up cannons and some dead droids and possibly some dead organic mercenaries.”

There was a sharp click as the pilot activated the intercom. Everyone looked as if expecting to see the pilots face.

“LZ five cycles out. Hope you boys are ready.” 

Everyone moved rather swiftly as they all raised their guns. Then a series of clicks popped as everyone flipped their safeties off. The lines were already prepared for the drop. 

Ten cycles passed the LAAT came to halt choosing to hover over a selected area. The doors flew open the lines flew down. Everyone in near sync slid down and made it the ground. Taylor was quick to raise the sights of his carbine to his eye as he waved it checking for hostiles. Gabriel's came right behind him. The commandos had formed a circle of sorts to ensure the LZ was secure. The LAAT then pulled up as it corrected its course going back to the cruiser.

“Deltas move.” Said Boss.

The commandos quickly did as told moving out covering all their flanks. Taylor and Gabriel's choosing to join them. Talk was up it was time to see what these guys were made of. 

*****

Viktor Starikov had just about recovered from the vodka as the LAAT took off. The ARCs were surprisingly silent. No pre-mission banter that Starikov enjoyed with his old team. Nor did they seem the least bit curious about him. A private contractor who was surveying their actions. Position changed Starikov would want to know as much as he could about a man who would survey him. 

“ARC stands for Advanced Recon Commando no?” Said Starikov.

“That's exactly what it stands for.” Said Alpha 17. 

“Alright, out of curiosity how many of your missions have been specifically recon?” 

“15.” 

“How many missions have you been on?” 

“200.”

Starikov raised his right eyebrow. This would have to mean 185 out 200 missions could be defined as recon. In other words, 92.5 percent of all missions were direct action type missions. 

“What's the point of calling you Advanced Recon Commandos if you rarely ever do fucking Recon. Why not just advanced commandos or Advanced Raiding Commandos if the acronym has to sound cool?” Questioned Starikov.

“Don't ask me, I just point and shoot it’s not my job to come with names.” Said Alpha as he struggled his shoulders. 

“I shall make note of it next time I encounter a Jedi.” 

The ship came to halt. There was no speech everyone just moved as the doors flew back revealing the bright rays of the systems star bearing down on them. Starikov raised his to block it as the ARCs strapped cables to their belts. 

“I see why they were the helmets.” Said Starikov.

Then the two terran contractors came down the ropes last. They landed on grass landy very moist grassland that dug into Starikov's boots. The jungles of Felucia were visible behind them. The grass itself was tall and very moist. It must've just rained. 

 

Alpha took lead Fordo fell in behind him as according to rank. Six and Shock sprinted up together behind them and CT-7567 sprinted right behind them with Ranger falling behind. 

Starikov noticed that these boys wasted no time at all getting to work. It's what you would expect from any kind of SOF outfit. But these guys had a certain way they moved that showed their determination and displayed aggression as they sprinted with their blasters. 

Alpha stopped, holding his hand back. That signaled everyone to stop. Then everyone dropped down into the tall grass. Starikov and Joel followed suit.

Two patrol droids on speeders zoomed overhead. The sound of the engine roared above.

After the speeders passed they resumed their spring. Starikov was impressed at how fast they moved. 

The trek kept up for ten my minutes before they came above a hill. Below the hill two minutes away was a small airfield. Vulture droids stood as on the tips of their tall legs hooked up to fuel lines. A few hyenae bombers were being loaded up as well. B1 battle droids marched in perfect sync around the airfield. B2s stood sentry with menacing metal bodies and blaster gun. Their small heads ingrained within their chests. 

“Alright, we'll attack from two ends. Six and Shock on me we'll hit east, Fordo you take Ranger and 75- ya know what you need a name.” Said Alpha before allowing the raid commence, “Has to be something strong an aggressive a proper name for a clone soldier.” 

“Rex,” Starikov suggested.

The ARCs all looked at him. Even Joel looked at him. He was a surveyor why was he giving suggestions? 

“Why Rex?” Questioned Alpha. 

“See on my world there were once giant creatures call Tyrannosaurus Rexes. They were the biggest, badest, creature out of all them. They killed anything they felt like killing.” 

“Huh, I like it. Alright CT 7567 your Rex now,” Alpha said pointing at him, “Flank west with Fordo. Starikov you and Sarc on me if you're going in. I can already here command unleashing their wrath upon me for getting an expensive contractor killed.” 

“Sarc’s a sniper he'll hang up here. But I didn't come all this say and pick out this shiny blaster to not kill something.” 

With that, they broke up into two teams and sprinted off in two directions. Joel went down on his stomach and focused acog around Starikov. He then moved it up to where they were sprinting to. 

“Sniper with no spotter just fucking beautiful.” Said Joel. 

The droids never could've seen it coming. Starikov formed the biggest smile as Alpha through two thermal detonators at two B2s guarding the eastern entrance and six B1s on patrol that were just unlucky enough to be there. Two giant bright fireballs expanded consuming the droids in their entirety. They were entirely vaporized upon impact. 

Six and Shock opened fire in perfect sync blue vibrantly flashing from the muzzles of their blasters. Blaster bolts of the very same color flew right towards a squad of four B1s behind the gate that had been smashed by the impact of the thermal detonators. The bolts went through their chest and faceplates causing metal fragments to fly from the bodies of the mechanical soldiers. The remnants of their metal bodies were scattered across the ground. 

Alpha then brought up his Westar M5 and dove into a combat roll through the gate. He got to his knees and squeezed the trigger his blast set to burst. However, it was hard to tell seeing how he used the rifle. There was a millisecond at max between trigger pulls. 

Starikov charged through the gate holding his own carbine. He picked out a pair of droids coming on Alpha's left flank. He aimed. Bang! A gunshot shouted out. The droids crashed to the ground a bullet hole through both their skulls. Starikov looked over his shoulder where Joel stared right at him through the scope of his rifle. 

“Joy kill,” Starikov grumbled.

He was interrupted as a chain of explosions broke from the west flank. Captain Fordo charged in first holding a single blaster pistol. He fired eight times with hius quick trigger finger the bolts splattering three B1 battle droids face plates before they could process what was happening. Ranger charged in and waved this mighty chain gun as huge squeezed the trigger the blue blaster's bolts spewed from the many barrels that spun faster than the propellers on a helicopter. More droids then Starikov could possibly count fell at Ranger's feet. 

Quickly Alpha strapped charges on to fuel barrels. As soon as he was done he ran the rest of the team followed suit. Fordo saw him and drew his team out as well. 

The charge went off the whole airfield went up in a huge fireball. The explosion thundered so loud Starikov thought he was going to go deaf. 

Joel became worried Starikov was killed in the blast. Bolton would not be pleased if Joel messed up the only job Bolton had given him. Relief washed over him as the blond Russian was seen sprinting alongside Alpha 17. Joel then got up holding his rifle in both hands ready to join them. 

Everyone regrouped at the top of the hill. Starikov shot Joel a look. He lacked a smile and the way his eyes were trained on the SARC was like a scene out of a western before a man was shot down in cold blood.

“Sorry I ruined your fun Starikov. My orders were to keep you alive see.” 

“As much as I want to beat that smug smile off your face, ” Starikov started then his frown changed to a smile, “I have to admit that was a good shot.” 

*****

As they shuffled under the tall jungle trees that obscured sunlight and the humid air created a very warm and musky environment Wilson Taylor couldn't help wonder if this was how his grandfather felt in Vietnam. Though they were doing two utterly different jobs. It was still an interesting connection with a relative no longer among the living. He ceased those thoughts knowing it was the wrong thing to think about at this moment. It had nothing to do with the current mission at hand. 

Instead he turned back to the commandos. Boss the group leader had taken point. He checked every corner with his DC17M blaster carbine. Taylor noted he was very sharp. The other commandos walked only a few feet behind him all with their carbines raised scanning every section of jungle around them. 

They began to reach the end of the tree line when Boss raised his hand up in a firm first. Everyone stopped. He then opened his hand motioning down. Everyone went down to their stomachs and crawled right up to the end of the tree line.

In front of them two large separatist anti-air cannons in a small village. B1 battle droids patrolled in perfect sync. Six B2 super battle droids stood sentry near the guns as well as two Droidikas. 

“Let's make this quick, ” Said Boss on the com chat, “Fall on me. Scorch you'll deal with the B2s.” 

“Got it.” Said Scorch readying his grenade launcher attachment a round placed in ready to fire. 

The squad rose in perfect sync. They fired in near perfect bcy as well. A droid patrol near their position shot three to two times in the chest or head. They didn't even know what was coming. The commandos then moved into the village quickly. Taylor simply watched as that was what his job mandated. 

Delta squad moved perfectly together passed a small but Boss leading the way. They moved around the corner Boss and Scorch quickly shooting out the droids to the left while Sev and Fixer shot the droids out on the right flank.

Delta squad then arrived near the center of the village. Scorch took point with the launcher opening fire. The round made contact with one of super battle droids releasing a blue explosion that sent metal shards of the six super battle droids flying. The two Droidikas began to turn having faced the wrong way. 

Fixer throughout a droid popper. It went off disabling the shields of the destroyer droids. Boss and Sev quickly sent each three blaster bolts to the faceplate. Droids began to swarm towards the center of the village. 

Boss pointed towards Scorch then towards artillery shells laid out. Scorch scurried over. Boss then turned his back to him as Sev changed his blasters configuration to sniper. Sev quickly placed one bolt through three droids. Fixer held the trigger on his carbine down going full auto. Boss throughout a grenade. The explosion cleared out a few and then proceeded to do the same. 

“Done.” Scorch said.

“Fall back Deltas.” Said Boss.

After letting off a few more rounds and ending a few more droids Delta squad lowered their guns and sprinted out of the village. As soon as they were back in position with Taylor Boss took out a trigger. He pressed the button down. The village erupted into several large fireballs. The sound of the explosion was near defining.

The village before them had been turned to blackened rubble with neary a sign of life. 

“Alright Delta's back to the extraction point.” Said Boss. 

Taylor was quite impressed with their performance. The speed they moved and how fluid they executed their attacks in perfect teamwork was quite impressive. Their ferocity when carrying out combat was also impressive and their ability to move silently to get to the kill. These guys were space SEALs and in CQB pretty close to Delta Force. And while certainly, they proved effective in taking out an Artillery battery you could've sent any light infantry airborne force in order to complete this job. Their skills should've been utilized elsewhere. HvT raids or other sabotage type missions that required stealth. Right now they could be working together to assassinate a separatist general. And really impact the war. Notes Taylor would keep for later.

“Ace, get cold feet all of a sudden.” Said Scorch, “Kind of wanted to see a Terran in action.” 

“I'm here to survey you. So, unfortunately, I have to avoid anything that would distract me from that mission.” 

“Well, that's no fun, ” Said Scorch.

“How did we do?” Asked Boss. The Sergeant wanted to know exactly what the contractor was going to say to his Boss.

“Probably shouldn't say, ” Said Wilson, “Whatever my comments may be, I wouldn't want them to affect your overall effectiveness. Criticism may dig too deep and praise may inflate your ego.”

“Criticism would make us more effective. Then we could correct the error for next time.” 

“Alright, I found it a bit reckless after all that explosion may have tipped off nearby outposts. And as skilled in combat as you gentlemen are facing say a full armored division complete with tanks may not be in your interests.” 

“Out in the open, ” Replied Boss, “Perhaps I've taken that into account. They'll be expecting to meet a clone legion. We use the jungle to hide and ambush the enemy at random times.” 

“Guerrilla tactics than. Not a bad idea. Unless of course they decide to bomb the whole forest.” Said Taylor.

“They'll cease attack. Alerting us to such action we’ll move and they'll miss then resume our harassment of the enemy force.” Said Boss, “One way or another we’ll kill them all.” 

“I like your attitude I'll tell you that much.” 

*****  
Omega squadron had it rough on this operation. They'd dropped in to an immediate ambush by trandoshan mercenaries. After killing the mercenaries they managed to assault and neutralize an airfield. However, more trandoshans met them on the way to extraction point. Atin their tech guy was wounded. He'd been hit by several slug rounds. 

Niner the squadron leader acted quickly. Now they were sprinting towards the extraction point Fi their sniper and Darmen their demo carrying Atin. They made it.

The LAAT hovered above. It’s bright lights shining proudly upon the squad clad in black armor. 

Then a rocket struck the wing of the gunship. The explosion tore it off. The gunship swerved to the side in a circle. Omega squad hit the dirt as the LAAT crashed upon the ground. Everyone felt the ground shake from the impact.

Niner was quick as he rolled to his back and raised his carbine grinding his teeth as he opened fire on full auto. Two Trandoshans who were closing in for attack were both struck by the rapid blue boots of energy. As soon as the sank into the woods. He stood up.

“Behind the LAAT now!” He shouted.

Omega moved quick again. The LAAT was crash against its side on its good wing down in a valley. Blaster bolts flying at them Omega squad slid down a hill into the valley. Their boots crashing in the mud created by a recent flash flood. 

They dashed over to the craft where one horribly wounded pilot was still alive. He saw Niner in his black Katarn armor standing over him. Niner quickly used his armored fist to break the glass. He then grabbed the pilot by his left shoulder dragging him out.

“Have you sustained any injury?” Asked Niner.

“Crashed on my right arm. Pretty sure it's broke.” 

“Alright, ” Niner said, “Place the wounded inside the LAAT quickly squad.” 

They did as commanded. Niner then stared back at the tree line they'd just run from. Those mercs couldn't have been far behind. He also knew command would be hesitant to send another craft. If he was going to get his squad out alive he was going to have to take a huge risk.

He pressed a button on his communicator. A ding went off in his helmet. 

“This Niner Sergeant over Omega squad. Our LAAT’s been shot down. I acknowledge that proves its too hot to send another. But we have sustained wounded and are in desperate need of evac asap. CIS is hot on our hides. We'll take any help we can get.” Niner said over open coms for everyone to hear. 

Darman and Fi looked at him. Niner new what their concerns would be.

“We didn't have any other good options. At least all our brothers know our plight.” Said, Niner.

“Yea, but so does the enemy, ” Said Darmen, “I'd prefer go not die in this junk heap of a world sir.” 

“Why so you can die in the junk heap of another world.” Joked Fi.

Darmen turned to react to him. A loud bang from a slug slinger changed that. Fi took a hit in his gut crashing against the LAAT. Both Niner and Darmen turned squeezing their triggers. The shooter was drenched in blaster fire. His body turned to black smoke rising from it as it crashed into the valley. More hostiles were moving among the trees. Darmen fired off a grenade from his launcher the explosion cleared a section of the tree line and vaporized a few other mercs. 

“Fierfek!” Cursed Niner, “Of course the kriffing trained medic is the one who goes down.” 

The wounded Fi was also hauled into the LAAT leaving Darmen and Niner. 

“With all do respect, sir, I don't think anyone's coming for us,” Darmen said, “After all they'd only be putting themselves in danger. We're stuck here till white jobs storm the place.” 

“In that case Dar I plan to go down fighting. I won't die till this valley is filled with bodies.” 

“Right behind ya sir.” 

*****  
He heard the communication and then stopped. The ARCs and Joel all stopped as well.

Joel stared at Starikov blankly. The man didn't look wounded. And it didn't make sense that he cared about the communication. Joel read the files on Captain Viktor Starikov, former Russian Spetsnaz Alpha group and then mercenary for a company that entitled itself Legion international. He was apart of operation viper. A Russian operation in Syria against insurgents. The UN labeled his efforts as apart of a death squad. It ended with a data leak of the operatives involved. The terrorists went after their families. Starikov was not spared his daughter ended up in the hospital his wife dead. Joel would've mourned his wife and been with his daughter if he had either. But Starikov after being put out of work goes of to join Legion international. A PMC which had committed no shortage of controversy. Starikov was a cold cruel bastard. 

“Something wrong Starikov?” Joel questioned.

“That squad of clones how far off are they?” Asked Starikov. 

“Omega?” Alpha questioned.

“Yeah, those guys.” Said Starikov. 

“Five clicks, ” Rex said, “Traced the communication the second it hit.” 

“Doesn't sound too far.” Said Starikov 

“Starikov, ” Said Joel, “That's a little off of five miles besides why do you care?” 

“Suppose, you saw men you knew well in a similar plight. And for unexplainable reasons you didn't do anything. You couldn't do anything. But let's say years later a similar thing happens to men you dont know but those unexplainable reasons are no longer a factor what do you do.” 

Joel formed the most bewildered look on his face. Even squinting his eyes. Starikov was making no sense. 

“I'd suppose I helped them.” Replied Joel, “Is this some kind of redemption thing?” 

“Point being I'm going to turn around and go do something. So I need at least a direction to sprint in.” 

“Hold up, You're going to help a group of commandos who just alerted the entire enemy force of their presence. They are going to be surrounded. And not only B1s but B2s, Droidikas, Commando droids, trandoshan mercenaries, and tanks. What you're talking about is a suicide mission, ” Said Alpha 17, “With that being, I can not allow you to go alone.” 

However, the tone in which Alpha spoke suggested enthusiasm to go on this mission, not a concern. Starikov liked this type of soldier. 

Joel however slowly shook his head. He didn't really like the idea of a suicide mission. 

“Your kidding right. You heard this Niner we shouldn't expect evac. What are we gonna jump in the fire and wait till the fire department comes by?” 

“Or we kill all of them.” Said Alpha.

Starikov chuckled a bit. He really had been put on the right time.

“I like your style, ” Starikov said, “Besides I know for sure there's two others going in.” 

***** 

Wilson Taylor sprinted through the jungle Gabriels not far behind and Delta along with him. He heard a chime go off in his ear. It most likely wasn't Bolton. He pressed his hand against.

“What do you want Starikov?” Said Taylor still running and holding his rifle in one hand.

“Well cowboy you wouldn't be happening to be running towards that squad would you?” 

Taylor stopped causing Gabriels to do the same a long with Delta. Perhaps Starikov had information. 

“Gabriels talked me into it why?” 

“Well, I figured it's kind inefficient to be doing the same thing and not communicate.” 

“Ha!” Wilson said with a bright smile, “You of all people decided to go a rescue mission. Tell me did you finally locate a soul.” 

“I could do with out the sarcasm cowboy, how far out are you?” 

“Two clicks, ” Said Wilson, “You.” 

“Five.” 

“You better run like hell.”


	4. Guerrilla mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck behind enemy lines the contractors must work with the clones after deciding to aid a group of cornered republic commandos. Personal tensions between Taylor and Starikov reach a tipping point.

Guerrilla mode   
Two commandos clad in armor black as night kneeled down in the mud of the Valley on the jungle world of Felucia. They kept watch over a line of fragmented trees. Niner and Darmen had been in some right positions but nothing like this. 

They heard the sound of boots swashing in the mud coming from the left flank. Niner whipped his blaster carbine to the right the tip of the blaster directed right at republic commando Boss and a man in very light armor. 

“Well, what do we have here, ” Said Boss, “Omega squadron in yet another situation that requires the aid of Delta squad.” 

“Maybe we should start charging.” Said Scorch.

“O shut up, ” Said Niner, “One of these days the tables will turn.” 

Captain Wilson Taylor grinned under his mask. He found it amusing that there was somewhat of a rivalry between commando squads. Perhaps commandos were only ever deployed in groups of four allowing for this rivalry to form. That in itself was a tactical blunder it made them more predictable. You never wanted the enemy to know exactly how many men they were dealing with on special operations or what specialists they up against. Clearly, the Jedi needed a crash course in joint ops or really ops in general. 

“What’s with the non clones,” Said Darman, “And why are they carrying slug slingers.” 

“The none clones, ” Wilson began extending his finger towards Darmen, “Brought a medic. And this slug slinger can rip through a B2 super battle droid in three shots. So watch your tone.” 

“They're contractors who have the task of surveying us there names are Ace and Para, ” Said Boss who then starred at the muddy and wingless LAAT on its side, “This is gonna look great for us in a report regarding our effectiveness.” 

“Shut up!” Niner reaffirmed. 

Viktor Starikov sprinted ahead of Alpha and Fordo. Joel sprinting behind him. The Russian then dug his feet in to keep himself up as he slid down a hill towards the downed LAAT in the valley. He had a smile painted across his face.

“No need to fear, ” He began shouting with vigor, “Mother Russia is here!” 

Wilson Taylor was most annoyed by the Russian commandos jubilant nature as if this wasn't some dire situation in which lives were at stake. And just seeing him in his grey civilian jacket and baseball gap reminded of how Starikov was handling this assignment. He really was here for personal pleasure. 

“What's the situation cowboy?” Questioned Starikov.

“Why don't you ask one of the fine gentlemen in the black armor. After all there the ones who sent out the call.” Said Taylor. 

“Right, ” Starikov said his smile fading a bit, “Which ones in charge?” 

Niner perked up directing his gaze towards the terran contractor. He very different from the other wore a grey civilian jacket, cap, and blue pants. He had a Westar m5 blaster carbine slung over his shoulder and also openly displayed his face with a welcoming smile. Come to think of it Niner had a vague memory of the same man passing by his squadron in the hanger. 

“That would be me, contractor, ” Said Niner unsure what rank this man technically held, “We've got three wounded in that LAAT over, two of them from slug rounds. I'm also fairly certain enemy forces are in pursuit.” 

Starikov moved his gaze over to the other hill across from their position. He saw sticks of trees burnt to crisp and blackened bodies scattered about. A few more bodies with smoke exuding from them rested at the bottom of the valley. 

“Your guys do this?” Starikov questioned turning back to Niner. 

“Yes, contractor.” Said Niner, “My demo expert Darmen was the one who blew up the tree line.” 

“Please, call me Starikov, ” Said Starikov who didn't need to see Wilson's face to know his discontent, “And very impressive. I see why they call you Omega squad. With a strong name like that you've got to pack a punch.” 

 

“See Delta we're impressive.” Said Darmen. 

“O don't let it get to your head.” Said Boss. 

Alpha 17 slid down the hill and landed right behind Starikov. The rest of the ARCs fell in quickly and raised their blasters to ensure the area was secure. 

“Well, what do we have here, ” Alpha started, “A bunch of commandos kriffing up the job. Well, rest assured the professionals have arrived.” 

“Shut up, skirt boy, ” Boss hissed, “We had the situation locked down long before you arrived.” 

While the commandos and ARCs began bickering with one another and Taylor and Wilson began bickering over a plan Joel and Gabriels stood with their guns scanning the horizon. Joel could make out a small bronze figure moving along the burned landscape. It was carrying a black tube. Wait that's not just a black tube.

Joel took no time to wait. He swung his HK417 DMR up to his face and opened fire three times in a second. This was right as a commando droid with a rocket launcher was getting in position to fire. One of the bullets clipped off the droids finger. Another went through the faceplate causing an eruption of metal. The third went right down the tube.

The explosion echoed. And a bright orange-yellow fiery ball burst on the hill. Everyone ceased their conversation in that split second. 

Six more commando droids rose from the hill like a bunch of zombies from graves. Gabriels waved his rifle as Joel opened fire again. Gabriels went full auto on his Scar H. Three of the droids were hit immediately by the hell storm of bullets. Their metal shards exploded across the field. The other three moved to try and find cover. 

Wilson was quick to prevent that. He opened fire upon the hill with his 416 two bullets shredded the chest plate of one. Then four others tore apart the last two droids. Joel scanned the horizon for a few more seconds and then kept his gun up not bothering to even stare at the others.

“If you're all done comparing dick sizes, I believe it would be wise to change positions.” 

With that, the wounded were quickly hauled out of the LAAT lifted by two people and then two others would help carry them. Then the group was quick to sprint back up to the other side of the valley into a thick jungle tree line. 

As they ran through they heard the loud hum of CIS gunships flying overhead on patrol. Wilson knew that meant they were being actively hunted and most likely were now surrounded. 

“Guys, ” He began everyone stopped their heads directed towards him, “If we keep running they'll eventually catch up. Or they'll cut us off and we'll end up in a live fire engagement with a full armored division. Which may include those gunships over head. The wounded will definitely die in that situation.” 

Starikov knew Wilson was right. He was not going to use those exact words. But at this point falling back to a marked extraction point was out of their options. “You got a solution cowboy?” 

Wilson Taylor sighed. Then he folded his arms allowing his carbine to hang from his shoulders.

“We need to stall till the main force can push towards us, ”Said Wilson, “The only way to do that is to get the CIS to divide their forces.”

“Alright, how?” Starikov questioned. 

“They have to think a larger force is present and assaulting them, ” Taylor said then looked towards Boss, “The best way to do that is guerrilla tactics. A bunch of hit and runs.”

“We need targets to do that,” Starikov said.

Fordo who had said nothing up to this point swiftly withdrew a small circular halo projector and clicked a button on the side. A blue map of Felucia popped up. On it, every known enemy fortification and patrol route was mapped out. 

“I suggest we hit their supply bases, ” Said Fordo, “They'll react by naturally sending reinforcements to fortify those position. We can launch ambushes on those reinforcements. Or we could strike a few of these villages they've turned into forts. If our goal is to cause confusion. A combination of both would be best in my opinion.” 

“I try to start small talk says nothing, ” Alpha started, “We decide to go on a suicide mission has input. Fordo you fascinate me.” 

Wilson got a good look at the map their location was pinpointed. Probably synced to some kind of satellite-like device. They really were smack dab in the middle of enemy territory. Meaning they had an infinite amount of directions to attack in. 

“We split up into three teams. And we hit three different positions to inflict casualties and create confusion. They will move forces to those three locations then we'll reconvene as one unified group in an entirely different location.” 

“Sounds like you intend to create mass confusion, ” Said Starikov, “Sounds fun, but risky very risky. And we only have two medics not ideal for three teams.” 

“Para and Sarc will remain with the three wounded to keep them alive and protect them. In fact, they will move to our rendezvous point.” 

Joel and Gabriels both shot concerned looks at Wilson Taylor. 

“Our contract says we are to keep you alive how are we going to do that if we're nowhere near you?” Joel questioned.

“Our genetic enhancements make us more durable able to heal from most wounds. We can hold our own long enough to get back to you.” Said Taylor.

“Ace, you can recover from any non fatal wound. The key word being recover. I just removed a primitive looking bullet from two clones. Bullets are more dangerous than blaster bolts for you. It clogs the healing process you won't be able to recover until the bullet is removed, ” Said Joel, “And shrapnel is also hazardous, those tin cans they call soldiers are 100% shrapnel when you're bullets collide. In a CQB situation that risk is amplified. The risk is great, Bolton will absolutely lose his mind if I let you go with no medic and then you get hit.” 

“Look, I'm going in with Starikov at my side between the two of us. I'm confident we can keep each other alive.” 

“Starikov has no armor!” Said Joel as democratically as possible, “What are you going to do shoot the fucking bullets and shrapnel.” 

“Sarc, we have enough enhancements to dodge in a worst-case scenario. In fact, I've done before. Either do it or I'll confiscate your HK417.” 

“I'd like to see you try.” 

“Please, I'm an ex-Delta Force operator you what ran with the SEALs. I eat SEALs for breakfast.” 

“Fuck you, Taylor.” Said Joel out of defeat. 

The clones then stared at Ace realizing part of his actual name.

“Damn it, Joel, ” Wilson said enraged.

There was silence the medic and the commando stared at each other. Both men having blown their code names. 

“Well it clearly doesn't matter anymore and Para's a dumb name, ” Gabriels began, “Michael Gabriels if anyone cares.” 

Everyone split up into their groups. The ARCs grouped together, however, Rex was dispatched to aid the medics. Delta squad formed the second, and the remainder of Omega grouped up with Starikov and Taylor. 

The jungle seemed to grow hotter and more humid as the day went on. Wilson Taylor could feel the sweat trickling down his neck slowly at first. He thought more about his grandfather in Vietnam and his experiences. Old Lieutenant Joe as he was called by others. He'd inspired Wilson to join the army. Because while the stories he told were full of tragedy and confusion what the fucking point of that miserable war was, the tales of camaraderie and bravery were what inspired Taylor to join. His grandfather had a profound influence on his life. He'd raised him in his house after his own father had left him and his mother would've been out on the streets if it wasn't for good old Vietnam vet Joe. 

If only Joe could see Wilson now shuffling through jungle trees for hours on end just to get in the right position to launch a raid upon an enemy position. He held his gun firmly in his arms believing they could be attacked at any point on time.

“Say, cowboy, ” Starikov said strolling along with his blaster hung over his shoulder, “What exactly are raiding.” 

“If you paid more attention then you would know we're going to attack a trandoshan outpost a few miles from a CIS stronghold. Thus creating the allusion that a larger attack is headed towards that stronghold.” Wilson said growing quite agitated. He'd explained the second they'd split from the rest of the group. And he went into great detail using any detail Fordo could give them transferred from ARF trooper's who'd scouted it out hours earlier. 

“My apologizes when you explain things, they're just something about that makes not want to pay attention. I don't know it just doesn't sound interesting when you say it.” 

At this rate, Wilson might actually kill Starikov before they even saw the Trandoshans. He was getting on his last nerve. He now began to question his actual logic in teaming up with him at this moment. 

“Starikov are you trying to antagonize me or did you actually decide to tune out when I was going over critical intel?” Wilson questioned.

It was an honest question. He was growing tired of whatever game Starikov was playing with him. This was a war zone lives were on the line. This was no time for games. 

“If I'm being honest I can't help myself you just take yourself so seriously and not in the Bolton way where you simply lack empathy. I find you kind of snobbish.” Starikov said, “If you want me to be completely honest.” 

Wilson stopped turning around to look Starikov right in his eyes. Niner and Darman stopped as well and Wilson knew they were confused as to why. But it was clear whatever issues Wilson and Starikov had with one another needed to get resolved now. 

“Why are you bringing up these issues in the heat of a battle. Do you not understand what we are doing right now. We're at work, act like a professional and suck it up.” 

“Wilson is it?” said Starikov but really he didn't want a response, “If we're going to work together now and the foreseeable future then we need to be able to deal with one another beyond professional lives. To make our team stronger.” 

“And you figured the best way to do this was to needlessly antagonize me like it's fucking high school, ” Wilson said growing more enraged, “You immature, undisciplined, careless, Russian, prick is this some kind game to you. We have been tasked with trying to win a war that could alter the course of an entire fucking galaxy and here you are acting like it's no big deal. Have you ever taken anything seriously in your damn life?” 

After that, there was a brief moment of silence. The commandos scanned their surroundings worried something may have heard them. 

“Is that all?” 

“Yes, ” Said Wilson trying to regain his composure. 

“Good, now that you've expressed your points we can move on.”

Starikov knew where to draw the line. He knew it would be best to stop going at Wilson for now. 

The trandoshan outpost was a small two-story building surrounded by a tall electrified fence. It was positioned on top of a hill and had a combat speeder parked out front. The only entrance was through a gate positioned on the north end. Armored speeders with heavy blasters the trandoshans used were parked near the northern entrance. Six mercs stood guard at that entrance holding rustic looking blaster carbines.

Four others were broken up into pairs and patrolled around the outpost. There was no for sure way to tell how many of lizard men were on guard inside. 

“Breaching from the northern entrance is dangerous and clearly they're expecting it, ” Wilson began as he looked at the outpost from the end of the tree line with his binoculars, “All the other areas are blocked off by an electrified fence so climbing through would not be ideal.” 

“I can cut through the fencing, ” Said Darman, “Corrections I can use an explosive charge to destroy the fencing.” 

“That'll attract a lot of attention, ” Said Niner, “And there's no telling how many total mercs are housed in the outpost.” 

“We'll need a distraction. Two men attack the northern entrance drawing attention away while Darman sets the charge with someone covering him and then breaches.” Suggested Starikov, “Both teams will then work their way through until we meet in the center.” 

“Sounds like a solid plan, ” Said Wilson, “I take it we'll cause the distraction while the clones breach.” 

“Well naturally comrade.” 

They quickly split. Starikov and Wilson sprinted towards the northern entrance. Darman and Niner got ready to hit the southern entrance. 

A guard box sat at the northern entrance where a very board Trandoshan mercenary stood. He much preferred running around through the jungles or some corridor engaging an enemy combatant it stalking prey. This guard box position was a waist of his skills.

Three gunshots rang out. The guard jolted back as a bullet flew through his heart. Bloodshot out blood also shot from his neck as another bullet flew right through and the third smashed through his head. His scales splattered on the walls behind him. Blood painted everything and brain hung on everything sticking to the blood on the walls. 

Every trandoshan mercenary in the base froze no smiles hung on their faces. Two men standing by the gate saw their comrade go down. It had happened in a split second. They quickly switched the safeties off their carbines and in a frantic mode sprinted outside the gate to inspect what had happened.

Fully automatic gunfire cracked. Both men struck the ground on their stomachs blood flooding around them. 

Mercenaries from behind the gate raised their shiny black blaster carbines and opened fire. Red bolts shot towards Wilson who went into a roll timing it perfectly dodging a volley of blaster bolts when they were only a few inches from him. The boots struck the grass turning into black dust. He got his knees and pulled back the trigger on his HK416. He controlled the weapon perfectly. It barely shook despite the friction created by the fully automatic gunfire. His heart was also perfectly stable so the bullets flew directly towards their intended target. 

He saw three bodies on the ground. Others whipped back behind the wall seeking cover. 

“Yob materi vashi!” Starikov shouted extravagantly as he sprinted wildly.

He then blazingly chucked a thermal detonator. It landed behind the hall. There were shouts of panic then a loud explosion. Wilson moved fast with the rifle still up his eye. Starikov raising his western M5 carbine back up. 

More trandoshans quickly moved towards the attack. They through thermal detonators at both terran operators. Explosion broke all over the grass field yellow hot energy and black dirt shooting up into the sky around Wilson and Starikov partially obscuring their vision. It was like mortar fire but ran out faster and didn't have the same impact.

Heavy blasters were brought out. Starikov moved dodging a volley of blaster fire jumping into a roll and then getting to his knees returning fire with his carbine. The blaster bolts flying out wildly strike the heavy blaster gunner five times in the chest. The trandoshan toppled backward with smoke rising from his chest. 

Wilson jumped forward once again timing it perfectly dodging a volley. The heavy gunner was left with no time to move his blaster and now down Wilson. He didn't even have time to act surprised seeing Wilson dodge the shots at the last second before he was met by two bullets one through his forehead the other through his neck. Blood splattered over the grey scaly face of the man next to him.

Trandoshans with vibro swords had used the grenades and heavy gunners as cover choosing to charge towards their foes. Their reflexes were above human as well so a knife fight would be troublesome. Three came right at Wilson who heard their footsteps. He turned his rifle to his left flank they were about a foot away. He fired the last three shots in his rifle off at the one closest to him

Wilson then brought the butt of the rifle smashing into the temple of one before the jab could even land. The blow through the lizard hard to the ground. The second man went for a jab towards Wilson's rib cage the former Delta force operator jokes back. He was quick to drop his rifle grab his own combat knife in one hand and pistol in the other. He slashed the other trandoshan right across the neck. Blood sprayed over his balaclava. The last man charged and found the barrel of a Glock right up in his face. A single gunshot cracked more blood hit Taylor and it seemed the threats had been neutralized.

Except they hadn't. In truth, Wilson had never had resort to smashing a Trandoshan in the forehead with the butt of his gun. Trandoshan skulls were a lot tougher than human skulls. And while it certainly knocked the first merc to the ground it had not killed him. A fatal mistake.

The green scaled lizard merc swung his leg under both of Wilson's. He hit the ground hard on his back causing him to lose grip on his Glock and knife. The Trandoshan mercenary wasted no time and growled as he brought a vibro knife towards Wilson's chest. Wilson stopped the blade by grabbing both of the trandoshan’s arms and held the knife within an inch of Wilson's neck. So a struggle began.

The trandoshan reveal his bright sharp white teeth and long lizard snake-like tongue. His breath smelled of corpses. His eyes had a wild ferocious look that told Wilson all he needed to know about what this lizard was planning. He thought faster spring his knee into the lizard man's rib cage hard. His shin guard and genetic enhancements gave him the strength to cause the creature to cave. This happened long enough for Wilson to shove the merc off and jump to his feet. 

His carbine in desperate need of a reload still swung from the shoulder strap he had it attached to. His pistol was on the ground to his left and his knife to his right. The trandoshan was maybe ten inches away and recovering from the shove. He had two seconds to do something. He dove for the pistol. 

Starikov had also been in a brutal CQC engagement and had been reduced to his heavy blaster pistol. He fired two bolts into the chest of a merc and then staired to see Wilson Taylor diving left. But it was what laid behind him that concerned Starikov.

“Sniper!” Starikov shouted.

Wilson broke focus thinking that meant he was in the crosshairs. He tried to react fast. 

Bang!

The sound of a gun powder based weapon firing a slug round roared. Starikov saw Wilson hit the ground the trandoshan with the knife looming over his body. The former FSB Alpha group operator chucked his heavy blaster striking the lizard merc in the back of the head. And just like Goliath, the merc fell to the ground. 

Starikov quickly sprinted towards Taylor. He went into a slide dodging another sniper shot that pounded the ground behind him. With the adrenaline spike, he arrived next to Taylor's body grabbed the HK416 from Wilson's body shot out the magazine with the press of a button and snatched a fresh one from Wilson's best and slapped it in. 

Before the sniper could lick off a second shot a massive explosion roared from behind the gate. The sniper flinched. A fatal decision.

Starikov was locked and loaded. The sniper's head in the crosshairs of the 416. He squeezed the trigger a burst of blood and falling body was the last he would see of the Trandoshan sharpshooter. 

The remaining mercenaries were all riddled by blaster bolts as they tried to turn around. But it was too late as two figures in armor black as night squeezed triggers on DC17M blaster carbines. The blue bolts rapidly ripped through the mercs. Each hit by three bolts to the spine it in the back of their heads. They lurched forward then hit the ground motionless. The entrance to the gate was absolutely littered with bodies. The commandos stepped on each with their black boots and prodded the bodies with their to ensure the mercs were all dead. One flinched so, Darman pointed his blaster at the man and shot him twice in the back of the head. 

Starikov lowered the carbine. He looked down to Wilson he was breathing slowly and heavily. He saw the man's around his gut. A blow that would kill a normal human being but not a man with enhancements at least not immediately. He moved Taylor's hand to better see the wound. It was a mess these slug rounds were no more high tech then a bullet fired from a musket used during the American civil war. But that was bad the wound was messy and before Starikov could do anything else the bullet would need to be removed. The blood made it very hard to see what Starikov was dealing with. Then Starikov stopped thinking a single thought occurring to him. 

“Taylor, you were hit in the back yes?” Questioned Starikov. 

Taylor nodded. Normally this would be good the enhancements administered to them by their respective nations would heal perfectly. But nothing was happening to the wound. This meant one thing something Starikov did not know how to handle. 

“Poison,” he whispered.

“Speak up,” Wilson said in a very rough voice.

“Nothing the bullet went straight through,” Starikov replied. 

“Then why, ” Wilson started but grunted, “Pain.” 

Starikov stopped. He was never instructed what to do in case of poison just to avoid the substance. He always imagined it coming in a liquid form. These mercs had their bullets tainted with it. Wilson may die. 

“Hold I'm getting a communication. It's most likely Joel you know how he is I have to take this call” 

“Uh huh,” Wilson said nodding his head.

Starikov stood up and turned his back to Wilson. He then activated his communicator to call Joel. Three chirps went off and Starikov grew more anxious. Pick up the fucking com was all he could think. 

“What do you want Starikov?” Joel's voice came over in a tone suggesting he was quite annoyed by the sheer notion Starikov called. 

“Taylor’s been shot with a bullet.” 

“If it wasn't a fucking bullet you wouldn't need to be calling now would you. Alright here's what you're going to do-” 

“It went straight through.” 

There was a pause in the comlink. Joel was definitely thinking why the hell was Starikov calling if it was a clean hit. 

“It was poisoned wasn't it.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Gabriels has a kit full of antidotes. Don't move him too far it could be hazardous. I'm on my way send me the location now.” 

“The Trandoshan outpost but there's no cover here we'll be overwhelmed.” 

“Return to the valley plenty of areas to hide there but move him carefully. I'm not sure what poison is in his system or the true extent of the wound. Also, patch it up as of now his healing systems won't function at their accelerated rate as their fighting this poison.” 

“Understood Joel how long does he-” 

“Don't ask, one I don't know what's going through his system. And two even if I did he'll want you to tell him and I don't want him panicked. Keep him calm understood.” 

Starikov was silent staring back at Taylor. He sighed.

“Understood.” 

The communication cut out. Starikov looked back at Wilson Taylor right as Niner and Darman made their approach with their carbines lowered.

“Threat neutralized I suppose we're headed back to the Rendezvous point.” Said, Niner.

Starikov formed a bright but defective smile. Both commandos could tell it was deceptive.

“He's just been shot that can be taking care of.” Said Niner motioning towards Wilson.

“Funny story, see the bullet was poisoned and we can't move him very far for his own safety. The valley is as far as we can go.” 

“You mean the kriffing Valley we crashed in.” 

“I know it's a suicide mission within a suicide mission. But staying here is worse at least there's cover in the valley we can use to our advantage, ” Starikov said, “I understand if you abandon me and Taylor. After all, we're not even technically in the same army.” 

“Wow, ” Said Darmen, “That's bantha fodder, you went out of your way to save two of us. Literally, the least we can do is save one of you. We're staying right sarge.” 

“Damn right vod.” 

Viktor Starikov nodded. He believed he was beginning to take a liking to clones beyond just respect even. 

“Alright, first we have to patch up the wound find some cloth preferably clean.” 

And so Wilson Taylor laid on the ground watching as a former Russian FSB Alpha group operator and two commandos of an alien army were working together on his behalf. Truly this was certainly an intriguing time in history.


End file.
